| The still and silence
|
| Is torn with violence.
|
| A loud breaking sound
|
| In the night is made.
|
| Hear it grow, hear it fading.
|
| The sound you’re hearing,
|
| The sound you’re fearing
|
| Is the hate that parades
|
| Up and down our streets,
|
| Coming within bounds and within reach.
|
| Now, inside the place we hide away,
|
| We hear it near and hope it turns away.
|
| Turn away
|
| There’s something seething in the air we’re breathing.
|
| We learn slash and burn is the method to use.
|
| Set a flame, burn it new.
|
| We’re overpowered.
|
| We kneel, we cower,
|
| We cover our heads.
|
| Feel the threat of blows
|
| That will come and the damage
|
| That will be done in its wake.
|
| Now, inside this place we hide away,
|
| We hear it near although it’s miles away.
|
| We hear it near and hope it turns away.
|
| Turn away
|
| This house divided, we live inside it.
|
| hate’s dwelling place is Behind our door in fitful nights.
|
| Hear it walk the floor and hear it rave
|
| As it moans and drags along its ball and chain,
|
| As it moves through this house it can’t escape.
|
| Now inside this place we hide away.
|
| We hear it near and hope it turns away.
|
| Turn away |